


Didn’t see that coming

by assassi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassi/pseuds/assassi
Summary: “Well, Hermione Jean? Will you marry me?”She looked down at the man kneeling at her feet, nervously smiling up at her, hopeful. She knew that no matter how that played out there would be heartache. She wished she could spare him the pain, but it wouldn’t be fair to any of them.“No.”





	Didn’t see that coming

 

It was a beautiful day in Ottery St Catchpole. The sun was shining bright in the sky and the birds were singing, praising the blooming spring.  

“Well. I certainly didn’t see that coming.”

Hermione turned to look at George, lifting an eyebrow in silent question. He coughed, as if awkwardly, but he was smirking when he continued.

“I’ve always thought my brother would be standing there next to you. That Harry would be marrying _another_ Weasley. The blond menace wasn’t even a part of the picture.”

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. “Be good. It took them long enough to get here.”

A few steps away from them three men stood under an arch of white flowers, hands interwoven in an intricate way. Always the bravest amongst the trio, Harry cleared his throat and smiled.

“I, Harry James Potter, bind myself, my life and my magic to you, Ronald Billius Weasley and to you, Draco Septimus Malfoy. Till death do us part”, he smirked.

“I thought we agreed to skip this part”, Draco muttered.

“Yeah, you know what they say about third times, Harry”, Ron stage whispered, making a few closer friends chuckle.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Merlin help me. I, Draco Septimus Malfoy, bind myself, my life and magic to you, Harry James Potter…”, sigh, “and to you, Ronald Billius Weasley. _Till we are all aliv_ e.”

More laugher.

“And I, Ronald Billius Weasley, bind myself to you, Draco Septimus Malfoy, and to you, Harry James Potter. My life and my magic are yours, for as long as we shall all live”, he grinned.

There was a golden glow around their hands and the audience erupted in applause and cheers.

* * *

 

**Two years earlier...**

 

“Well, Hermione Jean? Will you marry me?”

She looked down at the man kneeling at her feet, nervously smiling up at her, hopeful. She knew that no matter how that played out there would be heartache. She wished she could spare him the pain, but it wouldn’t be fair to any of them.

“No.”

Ron frowned, smile slowly slipping off his handsome face. Hermione winced. She wished she could have said ‘yes’, could have accepted this fine man he had grown into. But he was never really hers to take. Even if he himself didn’t know it yet.

“I do love you”, she rushed to explain; or at least try, “but I’m not the one you should be with.”

“What the…?”, he began, hurt and confused.

“Just!”, she inhaled sharply, fighting down a sob. “Know that whatever happens I’ll always love you two.”

“Us two?”, he asked dumbly. “Do you mean… Harry?”

She nodded carefully, already fearing how he might perceive that.

“Is that it? You can’t choose between the two of us?”

Of course he got that wrong. She sighed, opening her mouth to explain.

“I’ve always known, I guess”, Ron said bitterly. “Even back then, when you both swore there was nothing between you.”

And she knew what was playing on in his head even now, years later – two ghostly figures, she and Harry, in the darkness near a frozen lake as Ron stood there clutching the sword of Gryffindor.

“Ron…”

But he had already stood up, ready to leave. She grabbed his arm and held on, even as he pulled back, offended.

“Listen to me, even if it’s the last thing you’ll hear from me!”, she insisted. “Ron. You weren’t jealous of me. Or, you were, but not because of me. And you didn’t come back for me. And, in the Triwizard Tournament, who was the one Harry couldn’t live without, the one taken from him in the lake?”

“What are you on about?”, Ron’s frown had deepened, the line of his jaw tight. 

“Give it some more time. Think about it. You’ll find out yourself.”

Ron’s lips thinned in pain and annoyance. He spun around and apparated.

* * *

 

He stared at the ring through his mug of beer. It was sitting innocently in its velvet little box as if it hadn’t just ruined his life. He had believed he was ready. He had believed it would work.

“What a fool…”, he muttered bitterly to himself.

Someone sat on the stool next to him. Ron didn’t look up. He knew Harry’s scent, the smell of his aftershave.

“It didn’t go well, I take it.”

Ron gritted his teeth. “I take it you’re quite glad about that.”

He felt Harry tensing but he didn’t feel like staying for the denying, the reassurance that there was nothing between him and Hermione, that he was a loyal friend, blah, blah. He stood up and promptly left, leaving the ring behind.

He didn’t need it anymore.

* * *

 

Harry was one of the main reasons Ron became an Auror. At the time it had looked like the most logical thing – being next to Harry all these years, he had already spent quite some time chasing evil wizards and destroying dark artifacts. He’d be with his best buddy every day, too, working side by side. To his teenage brain it had looked like the best idea.

When training was over and it was time to form the teams he’d found out that it wasn’t necessarily mandatory that they end up working together. Well, he guessed it was a good thing to be on the Minister’s good side. So at the end they did end up partnered. Again, it had looked like the best possible decision.

It was torture now.

They hardly talked. He could barely stand being in the same room with Harry, much less working with him and trusting each other on the field.

Harry never asked why. Ron figured he knew.

Tonight they had a simple stake out and Ron was glad – they were doing their job and it didn’t require words. The silence was comforting. He’d never been a fan of the ‘what if’-s or overanalyzing something. True, he could stew over something for days, like he did now, but he wasn’t _analyzing_ it, just quietly fumed over the same basic thing that angered him. 

“What is he doing?”, Harry muttered.

Ron snapped out of his inner world and focused back on the here and now.

Their suspect was walking down the street, seemingly unaware of the smaller figure, following him. Wait, the two figures following him. Or rather the third man was following the second while somehow looking like he was trying to remain unseen and unheard by the first and not the second.

_Huh?!_

The suspect whipped around, wand pointed at his first stalker.

Harry jumped, almost at the same time as the second stalker.

Harry tried to push away the first stalker while the second grabbed said first stalker and tried to also get him away from the danger. That’s how Harry and the second stalker got right in the way of the suspect’s pointed wand.

Ron’s Stunner was just a second too late. He yelled in frustration but by the time he stood up from behind his cover and ran towards his partner Harry had began falling.

“Harry!”

“Fuck!”

It was the second stalker who swore while ripping off his hooded cloak and pushing it over Harry’s bleeding chest. Platinum blonde hair flowed under the pale street light and fell over the man’s eyes.

“Malfoy?!”

Wild silver eyes looked up, shocked.

“What…what are you doing here?”, Ron stuttered, his eyes straying towards their stunned suspect for a second. Malfoy read that just the way Ron had meant it. His jaw clenched and he pulled out a badge.

“We’re on the same side, Weasley. Kind of”, he sneered.

There, with the Ministry’s seal over his photograph, were the words that slapped Ron across the face.

 _Unspeakable Malfoy_.

“Now push here till I call the Medics!”, he barked, pulling out his wand.

Ron kneeled, hands automatically going over Malfoy’s soaked cloak and Harry’s bleeding chest. Green eyes were wide, scared, full of pain, looking up at him helplessly. Ron gulped dryly, wreaking his brain for some kind of reassurance.

“It’s alright, mate. We’re calling the Healers, just stay with me!”

Harry’s eyes rolled back as he blacked out from the shock. Ron looked up, ready to yell and demand help but the words stuck in his throat.

Draco Malfoy stood there, his arms bloodied where he clenched his wand, his Patronus rushing to call for help. His free hand was clutching the shaking form of his younger colleague, the first stalker.

“It’s fine. You’re okay. Harry’s strong, he’ll make it. That’s the most important now.”

His voice was quiet and shaky, but his hand was firm.

His Patronus was a lion.

* * *

 

Harry stood in front of the mirror in the hospital room, wearing only his jeans and staring at his chest blankly. He wasn’t bothered by the idea of scars, not anymore – not after hunting down the pieces of Voldemort’s soul and being an Auror for a couple of years already. But those exact scars…

“Did you hear what was the curse he spoke?”, he asked, looking up in the mirror to see Ron’s reflection shook its head.

“He didn’t. It was nonverbal. Why?”

It was Harry’s turn to shake off his thoughts. “Doesn’t matter. Just reminded me of something.”

Of pale skin, marred with crisscrossed scars as the blond man writhed on the floor in his own blood. A memory Harry was going to be haunted by forever. He frowned.

“Was Malfoy really there? Or did I imagine it?”, he asked.

“He was really there”, Ron answered quietly with a somewhat hollow voice. “He put his cloak over your wound, called for help and pretty much saved you.”

“Huh”, was all Harry said, pulling on his shirt over his new scars.

* * *

 

It took merely a week before Harry’s hero complex made another appearance.

His body was slammed at the brick wall of the small side alley as Ron began pacing in front of him in frustration.

“What were you doing back there? Huh?!”

“Taking care of my partn…”

“Playing hero again!”, Ron bellowed. “I can fucking take care of myself on the field, Harry, and you were _just_ discharged from the hospital! What good would it do for _your partner_ if he lost you!?”

“…Sorry.”

“ _Sorry_? You’re _sorry_!? Harry, I don’t need you pushing me out of harm’s way, I don’t need dramatic rescues! I need you to stop being so reckless, always risking your life first and then thinking about other possible _wizard_ _actions_! I need _you_ , okay! Alive at the end of the day, even if everything else is falling apart!”

Harry gulped dryly, nodding dumbly. He was looking at the ground, flushed and uncharacteristically quiet. Like a child, who got scolded.

Ron sighed. “I need a drink.”

He turned around, made a few steps and looked over his shoulder.

“You comin’ or what?”

Harry dragged his feet after him.

* * *

 

They somehow ended up living together. Ron told himself it was just temporarily, just until he found a place of his own. He had been living with Hermione for a while but since that was no longer an option he needed his own home, soon. Going back to the Burrow didn’t sound tempting after living separately for so long.

So, he had ended up here. In Harry’s bedroom after a gruesome mission, waiting for his turn for the adjoined bathroom and thinking. About Hermione’s words back then.

_“You weren’t jealous of me. And you didn’t come back for me. And, in the Triwizard Tournament, who was the one Harry couldn’t live without, the one taken from him in the lake…”_

Well. Of course Harry had dove down for him. They were best friends after all. He’d do that now too, the same way Ron would. Because partners got each other’s backs.

But it wasn’t just fear for a work partner or a best friend that kept Ron on his toes. There was something else, something more he didn’t have a name for and wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

It was what made him stare, quite obviously, when Harry stepped out of the shower with only a towel around his strong thighs. His hair was even messier where he had toweled it dry and his cheeks were flushed from the scorching hot water Ron knew he preferred while bathing. His tight abdominal muscles flexed as he took the few steps to his dresser, a dark happy trail disappearing into the white towel around his hips. He turned around, his wide shoulders flexing as well as he rummaged into his underwear drawer. Huh. When did the skinny brat become… this?

Unaware of Ron gaze and unashamed in the company of a fellow guy Harry dropped the towel to the floor. Ron looked away quickly.

“I, uh… I’ll go take my turn in the bathroom”, he stammered, bolting for the door and hating how hoarse his voice had sounded.

He needed his own place. Now.

* * *

 

“I’m moving out. In a week.”

Harry didn’t look up from his meal. It looked like it was painful for him swallow before he said,

“Okay.”

His voice sounded quiet and hollow and made Ron hate himself a little.

* * *

 

But when something is meant to happen you cannot really escape from it.

“Push! Come on, harder!”

“Ron, it’s just not possible to fit!”

“Fuck!”

They dropped the heavy bedframe and pulled back to stare at it. It was obviously askew, obviously not able to fit where Ron wanted it without magic. Speaking of which…

“Why did you decide to live in Muggle London again?”, Harry panted.

“Have you tried to find a decent flat in Wizzarding London? Close to the Ministry?”, Ron huffed.

“You could have always stayed…”

Harry’s sentence died on its own.

“Or apparated to work, I know, but this place has… an atmosphere, don’t you think?”, Ron tried.

Harry’s face said it all: no. Ron huffed again.

“Come on, let’s try again.”

Half an hour and a lot of non-magical curses later the bedframe had somehow been fit into the tiny space Ron called his bedchamber.

“I need some water”, Harry rasped.

“Glasses. Top shelf above the sink. The box has a FRAGILE sign”, Ron muttered from the ground where he had sprawled because there was no mattress yet. He whined mentally at the thought of fitting it in as well.

Harry got up and shuffled into the kitchen. There was some fiddling and a mild curse until Ron finally connected the dots: the shelf was higher than Harry and they hadn’t brought the chairs yet. He huffed a laugh and got up with a groan.

“Wait, I’ll get…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish the thought. The box slipped from Harry’s barely reaching fingers and started to fall. Ron yelled something unintelligible and reached for it. They both did. And they both caught it. Their bodies collided in their effort to grab the falling object and now there was only the box and a few inches between them. Between their lips. Harry’s lips looked puffy. Soft and kissable…

Ron looked away, quickly muttering an apology. He stepped back, putting the box on the table, hand nervously combing through his fiery red hair. This was exactly the reason he had to move out. It was wrong and Harry would hate him for it. That was his best friend, they had grown up together and it was wrong, so wrong on so many levels that…

“You seem so sure that you have to fight it”, Harry said quietly. “Do, if it feels really wrong for you. But don’t if you only fear about my own feelings.”

And then it hit Ron. Harry’s look back in that pub when Ron had been fiddling with the ring, sure that there had been something between Harry and Hermione. Harry had looked so guilty because he had though Ron had figured out Harry’s own real feelings for him. For _Ron_. Not Hermione.

It must have become clear to him that Ron hadn’t figured out anything at all. It must have become obvious if he was saying that now, out loud and clear for even an idiot like Ron to understand.

He turned around and leaned in.

Harry’s lips _were_ soft. And he kissed well. Too well, Ron realized with an uncanny flare of jealousy. It was squished down however when Harry opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. Because, like with anything else he did in his life, Harry wasn’t holding back.

It took a moment, or a day, or a small eternity before they resurfaced for breath.

“Maybe I don’t have to move out after all”, Ron wheezed.

“Couldn’t you have figured it out before we wrestled the bedframe?”, Harry panted. Ron laughed. “Fuck that, I’m glad you figured it out _at all_.”

And it was Harry’s turn to laugh at Ron’s grumpy face.

* * *

 

Hermione Granger opened the door to her flat slowly, hesitantly. The man standing on her doorstep smiled with understanding as he held out a beautiful bouquet of flowers. She stared at it as if was going to bite her, not wanting to assume anything.

“It’s safe to take them. I’m not proposing to you again”, Ron smirked.

She finally cracked a smile as she took the flowers and leaned down to smell them.

“It’s a ‘thank-you-for-opening-my-eyes’ gift.”

“Sounds better than ‘thanks for not marrying me”’, she noted, making him chuckle. “Do you want to come in?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

It had been a month since him and Harry had started living together, officially. It still felt kind of weird sometimes. And it was a good thing that Harry managed to let go easier than Ron. Maybe because he had realized his feelings longer ago. Still, Ron wished he could open up like Harry did. But it was still strange sometimes to wake up naked next to his best friend (even if they hadn’t gotten up to anything penetrative, sticking to safer territory) or to pop an awkward boner and have his buddy take care of it (“Too much information, Ron!”). It was weird staring at Harry the way he had once stared at Hermione or even Lavender. It was strange trying to crack a joke only to hear him laugh. It was odd being jealous of his own sister or Cho since that was all of Harry’s limited experience as well.  

He told Hermione all that over a cup of strong tea. She looked at him over the rim of her cup before she slowly lowered it on the table and took a deep breath.

“I should really stop meddling in your love life”, she smiled, a twisted little curl of her lips that wasn’t quite a real smile. “But there’s still something missing in your relationship. And I think it’s best if you face it and accept it now, earlier on, instead of fighting it and taking the longer road once again.”

Ron didn’t ask the obvious question. Maybe because he already had a feeling what that thing was and still wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge it. Not before he examined his own feelings on the matter.

* * *

 

There were very few places an Auror couldn’t access and one of them was the Department of Mysteries.

No one really knew what the guys working there did for a living - they were called Unspeakables for a reason. They didn’t socialize much and were rarely even seen in the Ministry’s hallways. Some people even claimed that the department was an urban legend, a myth. Ron knew better, since he’d been there.

The memories of that night still haunted his dreams sometimes and he knew it was the same for Harry. He tried to picture the place in bright (magical) daylight with people bustling around, a normal, mundane workplace. And he couldn’t. All he imagined were shadows and dust and nightmares.

He tried to picture Malfoy working there and failed. He tried to imagine why he would even want to and didn’t come up with anything. It felt like a punishment to be forced down the-…

“Fuck.”

He dug out the archives of the trials and the three _Malfoy_ folders. He felt a pang at the stamp _Deceased_ on Lucius’ file. Narcisa and Draco’s didn’t tell much more: both included Harry’s testimony of what had happened in the forest where Narcisa’s lie had saved him, and in the Manor where Draco had lied that he didn’t know Harry (where Ron had clearly seen recognition in his eyes) and then refused to call the Dark Lord when Belatrix had demanded it.

There was something more in Draco’s file though. A memory, sealed and signed as _Confidential_. Ron gripped the small vial and went to the front desk demanding a pensieve. The guy behind the desk didn’t bat an eye – because there were some perks of being an Auror after all.

The archivist led him to the private chambers for memory viewing and emptied the vial, making sure to keep it stable for recollecting later. He then nodded to Ron and left. The red-head took a deep breath and dove.

He found himself in a round chamber of the Wizengamot. The main trial was over but there were a few remaining people: the judge, the prosecutor and a very tired, younger Draco.

_“Mr. Malfoy. Though you have been pronounced not guilty by this court and the jury due to your young age and indirect involvement in the War, we both know you are not exactly innocent either. To redeem some of your sins and become of use of this society this court convicts you to seven years as an Unspeakable. May that be of some use to you as well, giving you an opportunity to once again build a name for yourself. Dare I say, a better one, as a respected officer of the Ministry.”_

_Malfoy smirked, in way that was both tired and defiant. “Let’s not pretend that’s not a leash to have me close and keep an eye on me.”_

_The judge’s hammer echoed in the room, ending the memory._

* * *

 

Draco Malfoy was frustratingly secretive.

He didn’t keep in touch with his old Slytherin friends. He didn’t go out in pubs or clubs. He lived in a semi-Muggle area near the Ministry where magic was allowed thanks to the layers of incantations preventing Muggles to see it. It was quite obvious why the blonde had chosen this part of the city: whenever he ventured out to the store or the bakery his face elicited only pleasant smiles and no further recognition than knowing your neighbor or a loyal customer. There were no whispers or nasty comments behind his back.

The only glitch in his system, the one thing Ron hadn’t figured out yet was his Wednesday and Friday apparitions.

Malfoy got out of work an hour earlier on those days. He wasn’t slacking – Ron checked and it was his true work schedule. After work he went to a back alley and apparated to an unknown destination. Of course Ron could throw himself after the elusive blonde and let himself be sucked into the apparition but then he’d blow his cover. And he wasn’t ready to give up on Malfoy yet.

* * *

 

Draco stepped out of the café and took a deep breath as if enjoying the sun. He made a few confident steps before he sat down at a table where someone was already sitting, reading the morning Prophet.  Draco suppressed an eye-roll and put down the coffee cup.

“Here. With a gallon of milk and barely any coffee, no sugar”, he said.

The top end of the newspaper was aggressively lowered and a pair of sapphire blue eyes glared at Draco’s own smug silver ones. Ron sighed and threw away his ‘cover’. The glare shifted towards the cup, suspicious.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t poison it”, Draco offered, still smirking.

“Not that you couldn’t”, Ron grumbled.

“True”, Draco agreed, not in the mood to make this easier for the nosy Auror.

“I won’t even ask how you know how I take my coffee.”

“Don’t.”

“So, what is this?”, Ron nodded to the cup.

“Coffee”, Draco shrugged innocently.

“You know what I mean”, the red-head frowned. He was kind of handsome like that. Less of a goon.

“I do”, Draco agreed again, quite enjoying this.

“Malfoy.”

Uh. Fine.

“Depends”, Draco admitted.

“On?”

“What do you want from me?”

That obviously caught Ron off guard. His jaw clenched and he looked away.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Hmm”, Draco nodded thoughtfully, pale brows lifting mockingly. “Well, call me when you find out. But don’t keep following me. I might lash out if you actually surprise me”, he added with a wink, standing up and walking away smugly. Just like he’d planned.

* * *

 

It was a dark night - the clouds were obscuring the moon and there were no street lights in this forgotten place. The old house was not just abandoned but it looked haunted. Ron had a bad feeling about this.

 “Now who’s following Malfoy around?”, a voice called behind him.

Ron whirled around, wand pointed, a curse ready on his tongue. He heaved a breath and rolled his eyes at the sight of Harry, smirking a few feet behind him.

“I hate it when you sneak up on me. Don’t do that”, he chastised.

Harry didn’t promise anything. “I thought you promised to stop following him.”

Ron huffed and looked back at the house. “I won’t ask how you know about that conversation. I’ll just remind you I promised no such thing. He demanded it. I didn’t agree. ”

Harry snorted quietly. Ron tsk-ed.

“I have a bad feeling. I’m going in.”

“Wait, we might put him at ris-…”, Harry began but then suddenly froze.

And so had his breath, hanging as a cold visible mist in the night.

The other thing handing in the air was the feeling of despair.

They both rushed into the abandoned building. And then stopped again. There was no other visible source of light, no sound, no sign of recent activity. It just got colder.

“Homenum Revelio!”, Harry whispered. A single faint glow flickered and then disappeared upstairs. Ron didn’t like how unstable the life-indicating light had been.

They rushed upstairs just in time to see the last remnants of Malfoy’s Patronus dissipating and five dementors diving down at his kneeling form.

“Expecto Patronum!”, they both yelled.

The burst of light was blinding. It was so bright that it was hard to make out Harry stag from Ron’s Jack Russell. The dark creatures fled immediately and their victim fell to the ground shaking badly as if wreaked by seizures.

“What’s happening to him?!”, Harry whispered.

“Let’s find out”, Ron growled, grabbing the blonde and appariting to St. Mungo.

* * *

 

Draco came to his senses slowly. He opened his eyes groggily and blinked blearily. The first thing he saw was fiery red hair. And piercing blue eyes. He frowned slightly, looking around. Into a pair of emerald green.

He must be dreaming. Because both of them? What were the both of them doing here, keeping watch next to his sickbed? It hit too close to home, leaving a pang of painful longing in Draco’s chest. It was too close, too close, to all he had ever wanted. And like everything else in his life if it was too good to be real then it usually wasn’t.

“Hey there”, Ron waved. “Gave us quite a scare, Malfoy.”

“What were you even doing there?”, Harry asked.

 _‘Ah, there it is’_ , Draco thought. He tried to sit up straighter in the bed and frowned when his body refused to cooperate, slipping back down limply.

“Is that an interrogation, Aurors?”, he sneered. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“Don’t be an ass”, Harry scoffed. “We were just worried, that’s all.”

“You?! Worried for me?!”, Draco laughed. It sounded bitter even to his own ears. He looked away. “I was there on a work-related business. Therefore, I cannot talk about it.”

“Was it about the golden platter you were clutching?”, Harry pushed.

Draco’s gaze snapped up.

“Relax. We’re aware it’s a valuable artifact. We handed it over to your colleagues”, Ron explained.

“Yeah? To whom?”, Draco hissed. Always suspect everyone, even the good guys.

Ron narrowed his eyes but answered anyway. “Robinson – auburn hair, brown eyes, a scar on his neck. And Davis – short, pixie blond hair, red nail polish.”

Draco nodded, feeling even more tired.

“You should rest some more”, Harry said.

Draco was out like a candle.

* * *

 

The next time he opened his eyes it was dark outside again and Harry had nodded off, curled in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed. There were hushed voices right outside the door – it was slightly ajar so Draco could see Weasley talking to a Healer.

“We can discharge him but only if he rests at home. He’s still very weak.”

“Why does it take him so long to recover?”, Ron insisted.

The Healer looked uncomfortable.

“Dementor attacks affect everyone differently, Mr. Weasley. Especially those with weaker-…”

“He’s not weak!”, Ron growled.

And Draco didn’t expect that fiery defense. It truly surprised him and he would dwell on it later, but the Healer sighed and continued.

“With weaker hearts, I would have said. Weaker souls. I’m afraid Mr. Malfoy’s soul is… very damaged, from old wounds that take longer to heal if they ever really do. An attack like that can be very dangerous for him. He’s lucky you and Mr. Potter were there for him.”

There for him. Were they really? Why? For how long?

Draco closed his eyes again.

* * *

 

“Come on, we’re taking you home”, Harry said.

“I can take myself home just fine, thank you”, Draco snapped.

Inside, a small voice whined, begging him to stop pushing away everything he’s ever wanted and just accept the hand that is offered. Metaphorically and physically.

“Of course you can”, Harry agreed with a smile, somehow managing not to sound condescending.

They both grabbed his hands and pulled him in for a side-along. It left Draco dizzy and disorientated and he swayed once his legs hit the floor again.

“Whoa, there”, Ron muttered, gently lowering him on the couch.

Which was not his couch.

“That’s not my home”, he observed.

“Nope”, Ron agreed, a shit-eating smile on his face.

“Am I kidnapped then?”, he growled. _Again with the growling, just stop that_ , the voice inside insisted.

“Yep”, Ron said, smiling wider.

“No”, Harry rolled his eyes at the red-head. “You’re… This is our place. You can leave any time you want. But the Healers said you shouldn’t be alone now and… Here”, he finished lamely, spreading his arms to indicate what he and Ron had decided best for him.

Draco knew how to fight his battles. He knew when to push and when he was too weak and had to pull back, take some time to reboot. He shut his mouth and sat back.

* * *

 

“What am I doing here, really?”, Draco asked.

The question was just as much for himself as it was for Harry.

Harry, who was cooking dinner for three in his and Ron’s kitchen.

A week had passed. He was strong enough to leave. There was nothing keeping him. No one. Sure, they had fussed around him the entire week but… why had they? They couldn’t possibly act like that with all of their guests.

“Why did you even take me in?”

“Because you needed it”, Harry answered simply.

Of course. St. Potter, always doing what’s…

“Right”, Draco huffed bitterly, twirling a knife on the tip of his forefinger.

“And because we needed you.”

The knife slipped, clinking loudly. Harry turned around, looking at him patiently.

“ _You_ two needed me?”, Draco snorted. “What for? A charity case? Or just a boy-toy, something fresh and fun? Come on, Potter, you’re too new a couple to need that. And if you do maybe something’s terribly wro-…”

“And you’re too cynical.”

Draco swallowed dryly. It was true. Years in the shadow of his father and their family name, the war and the aftermath had done that to him.

“Why did you need me then?”

Harry was quiet for a while before he answered. “For something more than just fun.”

Draco laughed. Out loud and bitter.

“Do you even hear yourself!? Weasley doesn’t even like me, you barely know me…!”

“And whose fault is that?”, Harry threw back.

Draco stood up abruptly, a few feet from Harry. “I won’t come between you”, he hissed.

“Hmm? I think you’d look good like that.”

Draco whirled around. Ron smirked cockily, advancing like a predator, caging his prey between himself and his hunting partner, Draco realized as his back collided with Harry’s front.

“You _do_ look good like that”, Ron purred.

Draco grabbed his wand and finally did the only logical thing that he had postponed for a week: he fled.

* * *

 

Another week passed. Work was a blur and he barely remembered any of it. He still felt off. Hollow. His place was cold and lonely and it felt wrong. Draco tried going back to the Manor to visit his mother but even his ancestral home didn’t offer any comfort. If anything, it was worse, just as cold and deserted for the most part, making his steps echo in the vast space haunted by ghosts and bad memories.

He went back to his place, to its cold emptiness, and tried to curl in a corner away from the darkness. If felt too real, a living monster of its own breathing down his neck. Like a dementor.

“Expecto Patronum!”, he yelled.

His silvery lion burst from his wand, dissipating the darkness but finding nothing else to fight. It looked around then sat on its hind paws, staring at Draco imploringly.

Yeah, Draco knew the answer to that silent question. Everything there was to be known lied in the form of his Patronus to begin with.

* * *

   

It was close to 11 p.m. and it was raining buckets outside. Dark angry clouds roamed the sky, torn by the occasional lightning. Harry flinched from the thunder. He wasn’t really bothered by the sound. He was thinking about someone else and how they felt with that horrible weather. He thought of stormy grey eyes and a strong façade, hiding the wounded soul of a young man.

There was a knock on the door. Harry frowned, wondering who it might be in that hour, in that storm. He heard how Ron went to answer it but moved as well, curious. The door opened just he entered the foyer.

Draco stood there, as if summoned by Harry’s thoughts, drenched to the bones like in every corny romance novel. He was shivering badly but he wasn’t stepping in. Harry made a move in his direction but Ron held him back. Harry frowned at the red-head then turned back to the blonde.

“What you offered. It was… t-too close… too good. If it looks too good to be true… then it couldn’t be…”

Harry’s heart clenched. Ron’s hand let go and he gave him a meaningful look. _Now he may come in. It was important that he face that. That we all do._

Harry nodded minutely. Then turned back to the blonde, extending a hand.

Draco stared at it, making a noise between a sob and an amused snort. It was just like all those years ago when he had offered Harry his friendship, only to be rejected. Now the roles were reversed. Now they weren’t going to be just friends.

Maybe.

Draco took his hand.

* * *

 

It took fifteen minutes for him to take a shower and get dressed – in one of Harry’s sweaters (Ron’s were too big at the shoulders) and Ron’s sweatpants (Harry’s were too short). They had him cocooned in warmth, clutching a cup of tea, sitting as close as possible to the lit fireplace.

It took them not even a few minutes to start the interrogation.

“If you wanted it then why did you pull back?”, Harry asked softly.

“Because… what if it hurts me?”, Draco whispered, too quiet, too broken.

“What if it _doesn’t_?”, Harry countered, his expression betraying all the emotions warring inside him. “Why do you always expect the worse?”

“Because no one’s ever looked at him like this. Because he believed no one ever would.”

Ron was the one to speak up and say the harsh truth Draco had been avoiding so long. The blonde winced, squeezing his eyes shut, gulping dryly.

“Right. Go straight for the jugular, why don’t you, Weasley?”, he spat bitterly.

Ron stood up abruptly, striding right next to him, grabbing his chin and making him look up into fierce brown eyes.

“I will. Only to leave the biggest hickey for the world to see that you are taken”, he growled.

Draco didn’t argue. He was too tired to fight. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. He just knew that this wasn’t really a battle and he didn’t _want_ to fight.

* * *

 

Draco inspected himself in a compact mirror. The aftermath of their night together was literally all over his body.

Even if they hadn’t ventured into anything invasive on that very first night it was obvious that Potter and Weasley were very… vigorous. Harry’s love-bites were scattered all over his chest. There was an imprint of a hand on his hipbone and teeth-marks over his heart. Everything about those two screamed possessiveness and Draco didn’t know how he felt about that.

True to his word Weasley _had_ left a huge hickey on Draco’s neck, very obvious and hard to hide without magic. Draco debated if he wanted to hide it. More than that, he debated over the meaning behind it.

“You can mask it if you want to, or vanish it altogether. I won’t be mad.”

What Draco did vanish with a snap was the mirror. He took a deep breath and turned around to face the culprit himself.

“That’s not just a result from aggressive kisses. It’s a claim. And I just don’t get it”, he admitted.

* * *

 

Of course they couldn’t just act on their emotions and needs. They had to _talk_ about it.

Talking was not Ron’s forte. As an Auror, he was even banned from negotiating with criminals who’d taken hostages. He wasn’t particularly good at it and it took a lot of him to shape up his emotions into words when it was needed. Like now. Obviously.

And then it finally hit him. That was exactly the problem. He was a typical Gryffindor, led by his emotions. But Draco’s Slytherin nature needed cold logic. A plan. Something Ron couldn’t provide.

“Look”, he began, “sometimes you need to accept things as they are, without looking for a reason. You need to accept that you’re here not just because Harry wants you. I don’t just tolerate you. I want you here too.”

Draco shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No”, Ron agreed. “But maybe I saw a new you. Maybe I fell for the little things – the way you’d comfort a colleague who obviously fucked up but is so shaken by his mistake; the way you drink your coffee poisonous black while having the biggest sweet tooth; the way you munch on cookies like a five year old; the way you never vanish the crumps but shake them off for the birds. It’s not love, not yet. But it _could_ be.”

Draco looked shell-shocked. His eyes were wide and vulnerable and he looked like he was trying to call back his defensive walls but had temporarily forgotten how. It was Ron’s only opening to just spill it all out, now.

“And maybe… maybe it hurts a little that you can’t believe me. That you don’t feel the same and can’t see me this way. I’m not going to push you or force myself and all that shit on you. I just thought it was fair that you _know_.”

And with that he left, because there was nothing else he had to say on the matter.

* * *

 

Draco didn’t hide Ron’s hickey.

He had made up his mind about it and the meaning behind it. He was certain that he had to give that a chance, if only to never regret not doing so later. The only question now was _how_.

The perfect opportunity presented itself just a few days later when he stumbled into the red-head as he was about to enter the bathroom and found Ron already there, fresh from a shower and shaving. With a razor, because he was sexy and ridiculous like that.

Ron’s eyes caught Draco’s in the mirror, carefully blank of any emotion, not giving Draco any hints. It was his turn to make a move, or not. Ron wasn’t going to push or wheedle it out of the blonde.

Draco straightened up and stepped into the bathroom determinedly but deliberately slowly. His eyes didn’t leave Ron’s as his hands crawled over the toned body from behind, exploring the firm muscles, following the dark red happy-trail. Ron’s own hand caught Draco’s wandering fingers making the blonde suddenly aware that his eyes _had_ trailed off down that tight six-pack before they snapped back up, meeting twin deep sapphires.

“You don’t have to push yourself to make this work”, Ron said. His voice was a bit hoarse and his hand clenching Draco’s trembled just slightly. It made a thrill run down Draco’s spine, knowing that the Auror wasn’t as unaffected as he was trying to show.

It made it easier for Draco to take that final step and push his body flush with Ron’s.

“Does this”, he grinded his hips and a growing erection into Ron’s towel-clad buttocks, “feel like I’m pushing myself, Auror?”

Ron tried to bite back, literally, the amused and content smirk that was crawling on his handsome face. His teeth worried his bottom lip but he was still smiling as his hand let go, letting Draco’s long fingers crawl further south.

* * *

 

There was a bright red hickey on Ron’s neck the next day. It was smaller because Draco was no animal but it was high and obvious because he was just as possessive as he denied to be. Ron walked around with it quite proudly.

* * *

 

The soft chime made Draco stir in their bed before he reached for his wand to end the alarm charm. The arm around his waist tightened its hold and Harry nuzzled into his back.

“Stay”, he murmured sleepily and oh-so-temptingly. “Ron’s down makin’ coffee. Le’s jus’ stay in bed today…”

Draco smiled.

“Tempting indeed but I’m not willing to lose my job over coffee”, he said, voice still scratchy. He turned around and pecked Harry on the nose. “Even if it comes along with two hot Aurors”, he winked.

Harry’s nose scrunched adorably.

“I thought you hated your job”, he mused.

Draco flinched slightly, using that as his cue to stand up and start getting dressed.

“Ron told you about that memory in the archives, huh?”, he tried for a smile but it was closer to a sneer.

Harry just nodded. The blonde sighed.

“I don’t really. I kind of even like it. I just hate that they sentenced me to it, you know? I hate that someone else took that decision for me. I need… I need to make my own decisions.”

Harry nodded again. He understood as much.

A hot cup of coffee landed in Draco’s hand, an arm reaching over his shoulder. Draco took the mug and the arm retreated, the hand lingering on Draco’s shoulder with a teasing little scratch.

“Poisonous black coffee for the tired hero”, Ron announced.

“It’s your fault I’m tired”, Draco smirked into his cup.

“Hmm”, Ron didn’t argue. “Coffee comes with a bonus today. If you’re not too tired and have a few minutes to spare.”

Draco turned around with narrowed eyes. They were both sprawled there, naked and smirking smugly and totally unaffected after barely catching a few hours of sleep. Damn Aurors and their extreme training. Draco wouldn’t let himself be outdone and he wouldn’t lose this game. He sighed and let his mug on the nightstand.

“I am so going to be late…”, he murmured before crawling back in bed.   

* * *

 

And then there were moments, intimate moments they shared without the frenzy of sex and proving themselves to each other.

“…So I guess she was just out of fancy names like William and George and Charles. I don’t really know how she came up with Ronald. I used to think that by that time she didn’t really care, she had so many of us already and I was kind of unplanned and she obviously hoped for a girl…”

“Let me guess: that was what Fred and George told you.”

Ron smiled that bittersweet smile that always came with mentions of the twins and Fred.

“Yeah. They just loved to rile me up. I know that now. And I know that she does really love me, that she loves all of us.” He cleared his throat, looking up at the blonde sitting in his lap. “Anyway. How about you? Where does your name come from?”

“Haven’t they told you? Like Malfoys, dragons always get what they want. Be it a treasure or a fair maiden”, Draco grinned. “You’re pretty fair with that pale complexion.”

“Says you. And I fail completely at the maiden part”, Ron growled, biting his shoulder playfully. “Really though. Why Draco? I’ve always wondered.”

The blonde pulled back and rolled over onto his back. He stared at the ceiling with a faraway look on his face.

“And about Septimus*? Haven’t you wondered about that?”

Ron tensed next to him.

“You mean…?”

“Hm. Yes. It took a lot of strength – physical and emotional, but my mother didn’t give up. When she was pregnant with me, it was a tough pregnancy. And giving birth to me was even harder. When I was born... I was very weak. The Healers gave my parents no hope. They helped my mother recover but they could do nothing more for me. So she prayed, every night, to the stars, promising them her only child if only he makes it.”

“So she named her child after the stars…”

Draco looked back down, trying for a smile. Ron’s face was solemn when his hand crawled over Draco’s heart and he said,

“I’m glad the stars listened to her.”

* * *

 

Harry was stuck. He kept staring at the same files for over an hour with no luck at solving that maddening case. It had been bugging him for days. He had no new clues, no key evidence. Just a headache, slowly building in his temples.

The hand on his shoulder crawled there carefully, mindful not to trigger any Auror reflexes. However, there was no hesitance: the long strong fingers squeezed once, gentle, but sure, before they slowly slid lower and intertwined with Harry’s own. And then they tugged.

Harry sighed, standing up and allowing himself to be led away from the desk, out of his study, back in the living room. He was gently pushed near the corner of the couch, his lover carefully slipping behind him, wrapping him in a strong warm embrace. Harry exhaled, feeling like there was a great burden lifted from his shoulders.

“How did you know?”, he asked quietly.

“That you are so stubborn that you’d rather collapse with exhaustion than admit defeat? Or that you were so mistreated as a child that you are permanently touch starved even now?”

Draco’s voice was soft but there was a hidden anger in it, something that craved vengeance for Harry. It made the Auror smile darkly, even as he nodded, reluctantly admitting everything Draco had found out, noticed or figured out by himself.

The blonde didn’t answer how he had come to know all that. He just kissed Harry’s temple and whispered,

“Lean back on me.”

 Harry did, allowing himself the peace he found in Draco’s arms.

* * *

 

Draco was pacing nervously in the living room, eyeing the small broom-closet. Even with extension charms it wouldn’t be able to fit all of Draco’s equipment. He was getting restless. He needed his _fix_ …

“What are you doing?”, Harry asked, making the blonde actually flinch, startled.

Draco turned around, staring contemplatively at the raven-head. Well, what the hell.

 “I need a lab. A potions lab. This place is too small for… I need it for… It helps me unwind, okay?!”

Harry nodded, smiling. “Was that where you kept disappearing on Wednesdays and Fridays after work?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. Harry laughed, lifting his hands in surrender.

“It drove Ron crazy, you know.”

Draco huffed. “Weasley has controlling issues.”

“He just worries”, Harry defended.

“Right. Even back then? We weren’t even… I don’t think so”, Draco concluded.

Harry lifted his chin gently, luring him to meet his eyes.

“Even back then”, he said softly, giving the blonde a peck before he pulled back. “Pull something warmer on. We’re going out.”

“Huh? Where?”, Draco frowned.

“To your lab”, Harry grinned.

* * *

 

Draco looked around the vast old house with wide eyes and a certain level of humility and nostalgia. His fingers caressed the Black family crest on the mantle and then traced the leaves and vines all the way to his name on the old tapestry. He then followed Harry up, inspecting every other room.

“Here. You have plenty of space here to do what you wish”, Harry said.

“It’s yours?”, Draco marveled before his face closed up with realization. “Because of Sirius.”

“Mhm”, Harry nodded.

“I’m s-…”

“Don’t be”, Harry interrupted, giving a little shrug. “It still hurts but not as much as before.”

“But then…why don’t we live here?”

“Do you want to?”

“Well… no, but…”

“That’s why.”

Draco grinned. He got it – the place was too dark and gloomy to make a real home. But it would do just fine for a lab.

Harry’s smile answered his.

“It’s yours. It’s always been, in a way. Now it’s reunited with the last Black.”

Draco’s grin widened. He already had big plans for this floor.

* * *

 

Ron strolled angrily towards the Ministry’s medical wing, completely uncaring of the looks and rumors. He’d heard it all: that he was banging the Savior _and_ cheating on him with a Malfoy of all people, behind his back; that he was a part of a cult, encouraging polygamy; that he was just not faithful to either Potter or Malfoy and had had a fling with pretty much everyone in the Ministry. Ron didn’t give a damn.

He burst in Draco’s room, glaring at the few colleagues gathered around the bed Draco was sitting on, pale but determined.

“It’s not what you-…”, the blonde tried.

“ _Don’t_ …!”, Ron growled.

The glower was now aimed at the poor Healer who flinched when the redhead addressed him next. “Is he stable enough for apparition?”

The medic nodded.

Ron grabbed Draco’s hand and disappeared in a swirl of black robes.

* * *

 

He was tossed on their bed right out of the apparition. It made him dizzy and disorientated and the next thing he knew Ron was crawling on top of him. The Auror was buzzing with energy, too wound up for Draco to try and reason with him. When Ron was like that Draco knew he had to let him unwind first before he tried to explain himself.

The Auror didn’t even bother to vanish Draco’s robes, instead tearing into them viciously. But even as pieces of cloth and buttons flew across the room Ron’s fingers never hurt Draco, always careful with the pale skin revealed to his slightly wild blue eyes. By the time Draco was fully naked Ron was even more worked up. Fiery red tresses tickled Draco’s flat belly as Ron sniffed at his hipbone and muttered a spell. Draco gasped, feeling himself getting ready for the Auror. Ron slid inside him in one fluid gentle thrust, all the way in. And then he just stopped and looked up, right into Draco’s eyes, his own sapphire blue orbs intense with the need of…

Draco gasped again, overwhelmed with it.

…connection.

Ron was inside his head now, all around him, firmly inside him. Or was it Draco that was inside Ron’s head now? He saw himself, clear as day, through Ron’s eyes: simple things like drinking coffee, reading the newspaper, brewing at his new lab; feeding the birds with the leftover crumbs – what was it with Ron’s obsession with those stupid little quirks Draco had? Laughing with Harry; learning to cook and being terrible at it, even though he was great with potions. Coming home tired but smiling none the less for his two lovers; moaning unabashedly under Harry as the ravenhead was pounding into him; staring up at Ron with wonder in his wide silver eyes.

Draco blinked, focusing back on those twin blue eyes… overflowing with emotions. He reached up and caught a tear, gulping dryly and trying to hold back his own.

 _I love you_ , Ron’s voice echoed in his head.

“So don’t do this to me again. Okay?!”, the Auror rasped out.

Draco nodded quickly, feeling the treacherous wetness on his cheeks.

It was only then that Ron finally moved - slowly as if trying to fix him, to put back all the pieces of his broken soul. To ground him and remind him where he belonged.

Draco’s shaking fingers crawled into the fiery red locks and held on as he surrendered himself to those strong arms holding him like a precious gift.

* * *

 

The sound of his heavy boots running up the stairs echoed in the house and Harry realized with a pang that he might wake them if they were sleeping. Thankfully, the blonde was still awake, laying on his back with Ron passed-out on his chest when Harry finally stopped by the door, panting from running all the way here.

Harry leaned on the doorframe, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding back. Draco looked up at him and smiled sheepishly.

“I heard you had another meeting with a dementor. What happened?”, Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I had to visit Azkaban. It was work-related, I couldn’t say no.”

“You could have asked them to send someone else”, Harry said, fixing him with a _look_. He stepped in the room and began undressing. “And I thought they got rid of the dementors there.”

“Mostly. Some of them remained”, Draco shrugged the shoulder Ron wasn’t sleeping on.

“So of course one of those that remained found you”, Harry said dryly.

Draco looked momentarily distracted by Harry’s naked chest, before he shook off the dazed look and looked up, determined. Harry smirked.

“I’ll have you know that there was no fainting and no soul-sucking and no need for a dramatic rescue.” His eyes strayed to the man, sleeping on top of him, before they were back on Harry. “I felt _slightly_ dizzy and I fell on one knee, completely conscious, mind you! I was no damsel in distress!”

Now naked, save for his boxers, Harry chuckled and slipped on the bed and under the blankets on Draco’s other side.

“No one’s ever thought that you were”, he placated. “You’re a big and strong Unspeakable and I might just let you fuck me later.”

“Damn right I-… huh?!”

Harry chuckled, snuggling closer and shushing the blonde’s splutters as they all fell into a quiet slumber.

* * *

 

And then, because nothing was ever simple in Ron’s life, the roles were switched and the one in the hospital was Harry, once again. Only now it wasn’t just his partner and best friend who was worried about him.

Ron found Draco curled in a hard plastic chair in the small waiting room on Harry’s floor. There were traces of tears on the blonde’s face but by the time Ron got there he looked like he had nothing more to give. He looked devastated – his blond hair was a mess from his fingers constantly tugging on it, his robes were wrinkled but the scariest thing were his eyes; hollow and empty.

Ron sat carefully in the chair opposite from the blonde. Draco’s voice was rough when he finally spoke.

“They said he was fine. He was brought in quickly, so they managed to heal the worst of it. They said he needs time to recuperate.”

Ron nodded, not knowing what to say.

Draco’s face suddenly twisted in pain.

“They wouldn’t let me see him”, he said, his voice cracking.

Ron bolted from the chair and sat next to Draco, gathering him in his arms, holding tight as the blonde shook with suppressed sobs. Ron had known they wouldn’t be let in. According to the hospital rules, according to law… they were nobodies. He’d experienced that once, when Draco had been attacked by a dementor. He’d had to flash a badge and even then they were hesitating. “Only _family_ ” the rules said, unless there was an ongoing investigation and there was a dire need of interrogating a suspect or a witness (which was how he and Harry had sneaked in Draco’s room that first time). But that was not the case now. Now they’d be let in that room only when Harry was deemed stable enough for _visitors_. They were at the Healers’ mercy.

Ron’s jaw clenched.

Not if he had the last word.

* * *

 

It was just a week after Harry had been discharged and Ron had it all figured out.

Hopefully.

“Come on, move that fine ass!”

“Stop tugging my arm! For fuck’s sake, what’s gotten into you today?!”

“Harry’s going to wait for us in the lobby”, was all Ron said back. He was buzzing with energy right next to the blonde.

Draco’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“You’ll do something drastic and flashy, aren’t you?”, Draco hissed.

“Yep”, Ron agreed with a manic grin.

They finally entered the Ministry’s lobby and Draco could see Harry waiting for them. He smiled when he saw them but it turned into a small frown as Ron marched up and arranged Draco and Harry both facing him before he took a deep breath. And knelt down.

Everything and everyone froze.

“Please let that work this time…”, Ron muttered darkly before he fished out two identical boxes and cleared his throat, looking up. “Before you say anything, let me just say that I looked this up. The wizarding law allows it. So I want to make this official. I love you both, the way I couldn’t even imagine I was able to. Now what I can’t imagine anymore is spending even a moment without you. So, Harry Potter _and_ Draco Malfoy, would you both marry me?”

Draco and Harry exchanged a look. Harry shrugged, smirking.

“He had me at ‘I love you both’, so…”

Draco rolled his eyes. But his smile was soft when he looked down at the kneeling man and said,

“Yes.”

* * *

 

It was a bright, sunny day in Ottery St Catchpole. Spring was in full bloom and the birds were singing, praising the most beautiful season.  

“Well. I certainly didn’t see that coming”, Ron said.

“I totally did! She was eyeing him at our wedding.”

Harry rolled his eyes, throwing Draco _a look_.

“What?”, the blonde shrugged. “They were all lovey-dovey, it was so obvious. Sometimes I wonder how _you_ two are the Aurors!”

Hermione grinned, shaking her head fondly as the Ministry official pronounced them Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and George leaned in to claim her lips.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> A.N. Septimus* means seventh son. As in, happened on the seventh try, seeing as Draco is an only child. I kind of imagine that might just be half-cannon, with the way Narcissa is so protective of him. I know every parent loves their child but hers is something else; I think. And if so, it makes you see her in a new light and respect her more. Doesn't it?


End file.
